


i just wanna party with you - dreamwastaken - "songfic"

by americanaspacecadet



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Youtube RPF
Genre: AU: The Great Gatsby [sorta], Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dream Smp, Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Making Out, Power hungry, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Indulgent, The 1920s, dream is a menace but just a little bit, hints of dream smp lore, i just like flirty/mysterious dream ok, no beta we die like men, slightly ooc? my b, who knew running from your brothers could be so much fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanaspacecadet/pseuds/americanaspacecadet
Summary: “𝘺𝘰𝘶 ’𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺!” 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵. “𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 !”“𝘪 ’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺,” 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘴, 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. “𝘪 ’𝘮 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵.”------in which you find yourself chasing shadows of a fairytale, and tangling yourself in the spider's web.------written to:𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 - 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘵 [𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘴]𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 - 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘹𝘪 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 - 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 - 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣------cross-posted to my wattpad of the same name.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	i just wanna party with you - dreamwastaken - "songfic"

_do you mind if i wild out_

_a little?_

the party swings like _the great gatsby_ revived: drinks are flowing, various flavors of smoke paint the colored lights pastel red and gold, and the head of the party has yet to show his face. your body feels like a play on daisy buchanan — face styled like a doll’s while a little shimmery black dress displays your form like a painting’s frame — but your head feels like nick carraway, the outsider of the outside.

“hey mama!” sapnap shouts in greeting, startling you with the volume of his voice and the heavy arm on your shoulder. “where’s dream?”

“haven’t seen him,” you respond. “nick, why the hell was i even invited? this is barely my crowd.”

he raises his eyebrows. “george didn’t tell you?”

“tell me what?”

“he said dream —”

and suddenly the two of you are whisked away as the crowd surges, music and revelry cascading towards the cavernous ceilings of the castle-like mansion along the ocean. your eyes flash with panic as the wild child disappears from your view, the only trace of him being the scent of his cologne and traces of gunpowder where he’d grabbed your arm. a flute of champagne is pressed into your hand, foam tingling on your hand as the tiny bubbles effervesce out of the chilled glass. the funky synth of the songs that play over the loudspeakers speckled around the room stands as a stark contrast to the theme of the party, making your head spin. you startle when an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you out of the fray and into a quieter side room.

“jesus, broad, you look like you’ve never been to a party like this before.”

you blink, dumbfounded. “schlatt?”

“still stunned from the room?” he teases, parking you on a plush velveteen chaise lounge. “for such a secretive recluse, dream sure can hold black-out parties.”

“i’m just trying to figure out why i’m here,” you murmur. “i mean… yeah, we’re neighbors. but i moved here not that long ago! how does he know me?”

the businessman tsks. “dream doesn’t know anyone, kid. but he invites _everyone_. fills his house to drive the world mad, every single guest hungry for a glimpse of his face.”

you lean in, entranced. “have you… have you seen him?”

“me?” he laughs, nearly in your face. “look, i’ve been crawling the streets like a goddamn miscreant for years. i’m the lowest of the low. there’s no way in _hell_ i’m getting close enough.”

you blink slowly, watching the familiar form of the brooklyn native mix up a mint julep and another unknown drink at the minibar across the cozy room. he parks himself in the armchair across from you a moment later, gently placing the mint julep in your empty hand.

“trying to get me drunk, old man?”

he snorts. “old? do i look like phil to you, minty?”

you giggle as you alternate between the tingle of the champagne and the bite of the julep, the singe of alcohol melting away your sense of self and any apprehension the first ten minutes of arrival had lain upon you.

_'cause i'm just a little drunk_

_and i wanna come party with you_

an hour later, you’ve stopped drinking.

you wouldn’t call yourself _drunk_ per say — you’d only downed two flutes of champagne and three mint juleps via schlatt — but you know you’re a different shade of yourself than the woman that had walked through the front door on shivering knees and two left feet. the lights are just a little brighter, the music a little more enthralling and loud. you’re flitting around the dancefloor like a haywire firefly when a pair of hands grabs your hips, a kiss pressed to the apple of your cheek as they pick you up and away from your latest dance partner.

“hello darling,” the voice purrs, the strong accent a dead giveaway as he spins you to face him. “enjoying yourself?”

“wilbur!” you chirp in return, a blinding grin on your face. “god, am i happy to see you. did you see schlatt’s here?”

“is that so?” he replies, his long legs allowing him to easily lead the dance. “remind me to stop by the bar so i can give him shit for getting you drunk.”

“i’m barely tipsy,” you retort, nearly eating shit as you misjudge where wilbur’s next step would be. “and _you_ did that on purpose.”

he gasps. “me? never. now, i’m escorting you to phil.”

you roll your eyes. “phil? really? i’m not tommy or tubbo. speaking of: why isn’t phil home with them?”

“he is,” wilbur confirms, and rolls his eyes when your brows furrow. “you’re in trouble for sneaking out to come here.”

“oh for — really? i’m not a kid anymore. why is he pulling the dad card?”

“because of the head of all of this,” wilbur fires back, gesturing to the wild room around the both of you. “phil doesn’t trust dream in the slightest, and i don’t blame him. now, we can do this one of two ways: you can come peacefully with me…” he trails off. “or i can grab techno.”

you pause, then grin. “better find the blade then.”

and you break from wilbur’s grasp, disappearing into the waves once more.

_a little_

breathless is the only word to describe you as you finally slip out a back door, the party a muffled memory behind you when you close the door. the ocean spreads across the horizon like a ruffled sheet, whitecaps dotting the deep blue. you drop your gaze to the pool just in front of you, the neon aquamarine of the chlorinated water a stark contrast to the wild waves at the shore. you pull your sore feet from your too-high heels, setting the golden shoes off to the side before sinking to the ground next to the pool. you barely have a chance to put in your feet when a glimpse of a shadow flashes in your vision. you blink, and another burst — something porcelain — disappears into the night.

you clamber to your feet, looking back at the party with wide eyes when a feral head of pink hair breaks from the crowd, right in front of an open window.

“ _shit_.”

his gaze snaps to yours, red-green eyes narrowing as he pushes his way through the ebbing crowd.

and you _panic_.

_when i look into your eyes_

ditching your shoes, you follow the path of porcelain and shadow on barefoot.

_i can tell that you're high, too_

barreling like a bull through the thickening underbrush around the outer perimeter of the mansion, you skid to a stop as a night-black suit appears in your vision. strong shoulders glint under the full moon, the porcelain from before glittering like a gemstone.

“dream,” you whisper, heart stuttering as the mask turns to look at you. “you’re not just a fairytale.”

a low chuckle. “hello, neighbor. glad you could make it.”

“but why me?” you beg, straining your ears for any sign of _him_. “why here? why now?”

“aren’t you just a curious thing,” he teases, “asking me so many questions. i’m supposed to be a mystery, yeah? can’t be a mystery if you know every little detail.”

you go to speak again, choking when techno calls your name through the underbrush.

“ugh, those _l’manburgians_ ,” dream sneers, “always ruining my fun. say, are you trying to get away from him?”

you nod, not trusting your feeble heart and spinning mind to weave together a clever phrase in front of a man — nay, _demigod_ — like this.

he holds out a hand. “then come get high with me, sweetheart.”

your skin buzzes with electricity when you take it.

_that's okay baby_

_'cause i just wanna party with you_

the two of you take off in a dead sprint without another word, stumbling like newborn foals until you reach a side door tucked between a hill and some shrubs. taking one last look behind the two of you, dream opens the door, and shoves you inside. inky blackness overtakes your vision when the door clicks shut behind him, a shiver running through you when a warm hand settles on your lower back.

“relax, dove,” he murmurs, leading you like he’s walked this dark path five hundred times over. “what have they told you about me?”

“that you’re a madman,” you return, the dark room making you feel big and small all at once, “and power hungry. that you wanted l’manburg gone from the beginning.”

“they make me out to be such a _monster_. childish, really. like they trusted tommy to weave a narrative about me.”

“hey,” you warn. the low tone stops him in his tracks, grip tightening on your back. “that’s my brother you speak of. watch your wording.”

dream’s hand slides to your hip. “my apologies. bad habits.”

your skin feels like fire wherever his hands go, even with your dress still draped around you. your brows furrow when your feet hit metal plating, somehow colder than the cool concrete you’d become accustomed to on your dark walk through the underbelly of the mansion.

“hold on tight,” he purrs, “it’s a dizzying ride.”

a golden light flickers on as he pushes a few buttons, illuminating the shallow corridor you’d walked through moments before, and casting heavy shadows over the cage-like lift dream had lured you into.

you shake as he closes the gate. “what’s your plan with me?”

“i said it already: getting high.”

_'cause when we hit the peak, baby_

_i just wanna party with you_

the lift jolts at that moment, roaring up the steel and iron cables like a rogue freight train. you cling to the masked man next to you in trepid fear while he simply _beams_ , laughing like the madman your honorary father had deemed him to be.

“you’re crazy!” you shout above the racket. “my father was right!”

“i’m not crazy,” dream purrs, dipping his face close to yours. “i’m _brilliant_.”

sparks rain down from the cables at that moment, bouncing harmlessly around the cage like thousands of fireworks. dream straightens up seconds later, solid as a statue when the lift crashes to a halt. you nearly tumble forward, on the other hand, remnants of alcohol ruining your coordination. he solely laughs, fingertips digging into your hipbone as he rights you.

“easy, sweetheart,” he purrs. “we have a whole night ahead of us.”

_all night_

and he’s right, of course; you’re beginning to wonder if he’s ever been wrong in his life, because the grandfather clock against the far wall strikes midnight when you enter a dark oak and emerald green-carpeted lounge, eerily similar to the one you and schlatt had shared drinks in almost two hours ago. this one’s just as empty, but the view outside the glass double doors is far superior to the former. the ocean stretches across the width, the sky reaching down to meet it with silvery blackness and glittering stars.

“this is my personal lounge,” he says from behind you, drawing the paneling shut behind him to conceal the metal-gated lift. “and, lucky you — very few people get to come up here.”

“what makes this one so special?” you reply, watching the tall man move about the room. “and why the hell is it so dark in here? trying to get something out of me?”

he scoffs. “get over yourself, _princess_. ever thought of giving me a chance to show things off?”

“you already do a spectacular job of that. have you _seen_ your parties?”

“i have, actually, but that’s not my doing. you see, i tell my close circle to invite random passerby, and to tell the random passerby to invite other random passerby, courtesy of me.” he turns towards you, a small remote in hand. “word of mouth has a marvelous effect, darling.”

_someone hold my phone_

he pushes a button then, drawing up the curtain behind him to reveal floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooks the entire party swelling through the largest room in the mansion. he raises his arms like the deity he pretends to be, and for a moment you feel enthralled enough to drop to your knees.

you shake your head, clearing the thought. “playing god?”

“play- _boy_ ,” he insists. “i am no god, and i’ve never claimed to be so. the many down there may refer to me as so, but i’m more flawed than the many combined.”

“the complex flaws of a man who insists on existing within the confines of a mask.”

“like i said before: _i can’t be a mystery if you know every little detail._ ”

he tips his head at that, and you can feel his gaze burning on you, even past the stupid mask he insists on wearing. he moves past you, grazing his calloused fingertips against your bare arm before lingering at the doors on the other side of the tucked away room. you stay at the window, dread threading through your body as wilbur, techno, and — somehow — tommy muscle their way through the main crowd.

“they’re still looking for me,” you call, a thrill running up your spine when dream appears at your side. “why?”

“you’re the princess of l’manburg, in their eyes,” he purrs, breath fanning over your ear. “and i’m the dangerous ghost that spirited you away. _kaonashi_ , if you will.”

“no-face.”

“that’s right.” a proud note in his voice, his hands wrapping protectively around your waist. “and a thief never gives up his prize.”

_'cause i can't hold my tongue_

he vanishes in a blink, back to the other side of the room to open the doors. a shimmering balcony greets the two of you, followed by seaside air tinged with the taste of salt and seafoam. a flick of his wrist procures a lighter.

“come on, then,” he beckons. “let me melt you.”

you meet him on the balcony, tilting your head back to greet the still-hot night with an eager grin. the _click_ of a metal buckle catches your ear, and the porcelain mask is shifting in the night, changing from a shield to a symbol.

you don’t look at him. “bold of you to trust the princess.”

you can sense the grin on his face. “bold of you to trust the thief.”

the sound of a deep breath, the holding of smoke, the exhale. you turn your head.

a human man returns the strong gaze, evergreen eyes burning with something unknown. he blinks, momentary spell crumbling, and turns towards the sea while placing a lit joint back between his lips. he silently passes one, unlit, to you before flicking open the lighter, holding the flame out for you.

“so this is the man the whole world longs to see.”

he smirks. the simple expression holds a higher power now.

“a simple man with complex plans.”

he tsks. “i only want to see this city succeed.”

you hum, breathing in smoke. the chemicals sink into you, twisting and turning reality to a frosted window pane of idyllic peace and crystalline promises.

“nick said george was talking about me.”

the blond chuckles, smoke wisping from his mouth. “is that so?”

“when i first came in, i… i asked him why i was here. this isn’t my crowd, and i know now how the whole invitation system works,” you look to him, eyes glazed yet fiery, “and yet, i received a personalized invitation from you, printed on the finest cardstock with the rarest ink. and the strangest part? it was on _my_ desk. and if there’s mail delivered to the residence, it stays in the mailbox until each recipient picks it up themselves.”

for the first time in the night, dream looks… afraid. you take another hit, blowing the smoke out towards the crashing waves.

_'cause if i get too drunk baby_

“now,” you demand, “why did you personally invite me, when the many are invited by _word of mouth_?”

_then i'm gonna ruin the fun_

he takes the last hit off his joint, flicking the butt down many stories to the cement below.

“you’re the last piece in my puzzle.”

_it's not your problem_

_it's because i've seen too much, baby_

you narrow your eyes, throwing what remains of your blunt to the floor. “puzzle?”

a paralyzing flash of teeth. “to put l’manburg into _my_ hands.”

_sorry if i give you ptsd_

you back away slowly, your heart nearly collapsing in upon itself as your back presses against the wrought iron parapet.

“listen, darling,” he begins. “this is just the way the world turns.”

“you… you can’t,” you plead, fear overtaking both curiosity and the faint tinges of aphrodisia that had previously ran your inner workings. “phil… techno… wilbur… they’ll never allow it.”

you hate how good he looks as he saunters towards you.

“i can,” he breathes, “and they will. all i need is you.”

“they were right about you. the devil’s advocate.”

“wrong _again_ ,” he taunts. “not the advocate. i _am_ the devil. just because schlatt has the horns doesn’t mean he’s got the guts.”

the pot makes it harder and harder to think, but you claw for solutions nevertheless.

“what if i make a deal with you.”

his eyebrows raise, hands settling on the parapet behind you, boxing you in.

“go ahead, princess.”

“is it _really_ the town that you want? or is it just a sliver that you know you can’t have, unless you move certain pawns out of the way?”

he looks at you, gaze burning with something indescribable. you keep pushing.

“ruling a city isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. there’s hundreds, hell, _thousands_ of variables. l’manburg wasn’t built in one night, and everything in place now proves that point.”

he narrows his eyes at you. “how would you know?”

“i’m not the princess for nothing,” you hold your breath for a beat, “clay.”

you can see the fuse light behind his eyes.

“say it again.”

you breathe his name like a spell, embers awakening just beneath the surface of your skin. he blinks slow, like a cat, pupils dilating like a black hole.

“l’manburg can be yours in due time,” you insist. “but isn’t there something you’d much rather have?”

he dips his head. “yeah.” a breath, two. “you.”

you wrap your fingers around his tie. “how long?”

“the moment you moved in next door,” he murmurs. “i knew i had to have you. but time changes things, you know? and i thought —”

“— the way to the princess is through the kingdom,” you finish. “for a man that seems to cover every detail to the finest degree, you’re incredibly predictable in other fields.”

he purses his lips, breath catching with a quick head turn when a faint _bang_ echoes from down the hallway.

“stay here,” he commands, slipping away.

you catch him by the wrist. “better idea. close the curtain, and stay here with me.”

confusion glazes his features, realization slowly ticking when your plan begins to come together in his mind. he grins.

_but i just wanna party with you_

_all night_

another _bang_ echoes down the hall, closer this time. the curtain closes with a soft _fwoomph_ , dousing the room in semi-darkness. dream tucks the signature mask between the wall of the mansion and a potted plant, and takes off his suit jacket, passing it to you.

“if we want this to work,” he whispers, eyes ticking towards the door as the banging draws nearer, “you need to blend in.”

you nod, familiar aphrodisia sinking into your stomach and veins as the warmly-scented jacket is draped over your shoulders.

_because you make me happy_

_that's right_

“you’re sure about this plan?”

the door to the next room over bangs open.

“we don’t have much of a choice,” you return. “kiss me, dipshit.”

a predatory grin breaks across his face, a warm hand bracing the back of your neck while the other buries itself in the fabric of your dress. the madman’s lips were on yours in a moment, stealing the breath from your lungs and any last coherent thought from your drug and alcohol addled brain. his chest presses against yours, trapping you against the parapet as the door busts open. you throw your arms over dream’s shoulders, whimpering into the kiss when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth. his thigh shifts to sit between your legs, an animal-like growl rumbling deep in his chest when you run your nails across the nape of his neck.

_i only wanna party with you_

_tonight_

_“not this room_ , _”_ you hear techno warn as he backs out of the room. “ _just a couple teenagers doing something i’d rather not see again in my lifetime_.”

“was he—” dream murmurs against your lips, and you suppress a laugh.

“— on our side? yes. thank god for older brothers.”

_because you make everything_

dream grins at you, bold and bright, before diving back in for another kiss. politics and the ghost’s future reign be damned — if you could kiss a man like this until hellfire rained down, you’d risk it all. just like tonight.

_alright._


End file.
